


Die fünf Phasen der Liebe

by solequeene



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-21
Updated: 2013-01-20
Packaged: 2017-11-26 07:00:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/647841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solequeene/pseuds/solequeene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The five steps of love... Kurt and Puck style.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Küsse

**Author's Note:**

> Archiving this old fic here so I have everything in a single place.
> 
> Written for astuta, who won the auction in help_chile. I hope this fic is what you were looking for. Thank you so much to k_magz for her help with the chapters' titles and to rei17 for her help with the fic's name, which, by the way, means “The five phases of love”. Thanks to winehouse for helping with urinal related questions.   
> Love and cookies to lezi, for betaing this. You are an angel.

Kissing Noah is something completely different from anything Kurt has ever felt. It may be the one-too-many tequila shots he’s had, or the thumping music and the flashing lights. It’s a possibility that it’s the mere fact that he has his tongue down his high-school tormentor’s throat. Or maybe, just maybe, it’s the way that Noah grabs his ass and pulls him closer, making him moan. Whatever’s the cause, Puck is something else, something that can’t be compared with anything Kurt has experienced before.

Not that he has never been kissed. Not at all.

His first kiss (Brit notwithstanding) had been sweet and unexpected. It had happened back when he was still in high school, when he still believed in fairy tales.

College had given him plenty of men to kiss (and fuck), and he can remember each and every one of them. There was Brett, with his brutish jock-in-the-closet kisses that left him bruised and frustrated. And then there had been Zach. He’d been scarily dramatic--even more so than Kurt himself--and had always tasted like cherry lip-gloss. After Zach came Hans, the Austrian exchange student. He was blonde and tall, and used to say he could wake up Kurt’s Germanic spirit. Kurt was pretty sure he had no such thing, but he liked the way that strong and powerful body felt under him, so he let it pass. His second real boyfriend, Peter, used to kiss him so slowly, with a sensuality that no one had ever matched. Kurt remembers that he always took his time to lick and explore.

The break-up was followed by many meaningless kisses in dark, smoke filled clubs, almost anonymous bodies pressing against him, tongues undistinguishable but good enough, for a while.

//

He literally bumps into Puck near the bar, his Cosmopolitan spilling all over the other’s shirt. The mumbled ‘sorry’ dies on his lips when he feels himself being pulled into a crushing hug.

“Hummel?! What are you doing here, man?”

“P-Puck?”

“Yeah, dude, you’re getting slow with age.”

Kurt wants to protest that he isn’t that old (twenty five is, like, the beginning of life!), and he certainly would never expect to be hugged by his old high school bully in a crowded club. The words quickly leave his mind, however, because now he’s being dragged away by a strong arm until they are sitting in a booth. Puck gestures towards the barman and a bottle of tequila seems to appear from nowhere. Thus begins their little game of catch-up.

It turns out that Puck is living in NYC, having found work at a restaurant after he’d left Lima for good. “What better place to start over than New York?” Kurt doubts Noah’s logic, but three quarters of the tequila have vanished by now, and Kurt finds he couldn’t care less.

He drowsily gets up with an excuse to visit the facilities, and Puck trails closely behind him.

The bathroom is cold, reeking of urine, and Kurt is instantly reminded of why he preferred the women’s toilets. But his pride makes him more apt to dying than going to the girls’ room in the company of the Noah Puckerman. He somehow manages to drag his drunken self to one of the cleaner urinals set up against the furthest wall.

Puck chuckles. “I always thought you were a stall kind of guy.”

“Oh, I am, but you never use stalls in places like this. People fuck in there.” A perfectly cued rhythmic thumping coming from one of the stall doors prove Kurt’s point.

“Kinky.”

“Dirty, I’d say.”

Kurt braves himself to unzip his pants and expose himself in front of the man who used to throw him into garbage in daily basis. He’s a grown man, he argues with himself--why flip out over something as silly as this?

Puck does the same, positioning himself in the ceramic bowl next to him. “Nice dick, Hummel.”

That’s not fair, Kurt thinks. Not fair at all. His hand twitches, making his member move spastically. Damn Puck and his mind games! He smirks to himself. Two can play this game.

“Thank you.“ He says innocently, “Yours is quite nice, too.” There! Scare the shit out of the straight guy: Kurt can do that. (It wasn’t like he was lying--Puck’s cock is very… very nice.)

Noah smiles and strokes himself. His voice lowers to a husky whisper. “I know. You wanna try it?” Another stroke, and the shaft gets harder. Kurt freezes, before zipping himself up quickly. He cannot afford a boner in front of Puck. Just… no.

He flees the bathroom, hurriedly followed by an apologetic Noah.

“C’mon, man! Don’t get like this!”

“I’m not getting like anything.”

“Hummel, stop being a such prude.”

“Fuck off!”

Puck opens his mouth to say something more when a man (tall, broad, and reeking of booze) comes in-between them.

“Hi there, sexy. This oaf bothering you?”

Kurt glares at Puck as he answers. “Hmm… maybe?”

“Hey, man, back off.” Puck’s voice is low and dangerous. (And also kind of sexy, Kurt’s traitorous brain adds.)

The man ignores Noah, instead stroking one grimy finger against Kurt’s cheek. “What do you say? Wanna try something else?”

“Hey, idiot, he’s with me.”

Kurt opens his mouth to tell them both off when Puck suddenly crushes their lips together with a fierceness that makes his head spin, pushing him up against a dingy, sticky wall.

//

And that’s how he finds himself vehemently kissing Noah Puckerman, letting the man’s hands roam freely over his body all the while. When his brain seems to randomly restart and he realizes what the fuck‘s going on, he pulls away, eyes dark and wide. “…You are so not gay.”

Puck simply pushes his groin against his, letting him feel the erection. Kurt’s doubts disappear and he lifts one leg to hook around Noah’s waist, granting him better friction. Then they’re kissing again, deep and passionate. Puck thrusts and moans in his mouth as Kurt pushes down, allowing himself to get lost in this dizzying pleasure.

Puck comes first--loudly, but he keeps humping against Kurt until he comes, warm liquid spilling all over his boxers and effectively ruining his trousers. Noah kisses him again, sweet and slow. “It took me way too long, huh?” He whispers against Kurt’s lips.

In the days, weeks and years that follow this one crucial moment, Kurt collects and classifies Noah’s kisses. Sometimes they’re furious and bruising, teeth clashing and biting. But at other times, there are chaste, chapped lips against his plump ones when he comes home. He also knows and loves the lazy, dragging kisses that follow sex, both of them satisfied and ready for sleep. Noah also likes to plant light kisses upon his eyes, his cheeks and his forehead, adoring ones on his chest, stomach and hands.

Their kisses taste like them: sweet and bitter, a mix of black coffee and chai. It’s different and unique. And so, so right.


	2. Streicheln

The film is quite mediocre, in Kurt’s opinion. Complete with explosions and trite plots, it’s your typical “guy movie”--the kind that he hates. But Noah always agrees to watch musicals and make-over shows with him, so it’s only fair that he tolerate ninety minutes of brainless testosterone show-off.

And he’s cool with that. What he’s not cool with is his dear boyfriend ogling the very huge (and very fake) breasts of the female lead--he has no idea why a physicist fighting evil robots would run around covered in sweat, wearing only a low cut tank top, and… yeah, no bra. It doesn’t look logical, that’s for sure. 

Now, he’s not a jealous man. That’s usually Puck’s role in the relationship: to grunt and complain about how every man in town--straight or otherwise--apparently wants in Kurt’s pants. But there’s a fine line between confidence and negligence, and he’s not willing to cross it.

Or, in a more specific sense, sit through a crap movie, only to watch his man drool over breasts>/I> (of all things!). 

He huffs and sighs obnoxiously loudly, but Noah ignores him. After a beat, he shifts in his seats and grabs Noah’s hand, only to have it squeeze back mechanically. That’s it. He definitely needs to remind his boyfriend whom it is he’s boyfriends with. 

He pushes the armrest between them upwards, letting his hand fall on Noah’s strong thigh and rubbing it softly. That seems to finally get his attention; Puck looks away from the screen and into Kurt’s eyes. Kurt absently thinks that his decision to sit in the deserted last row was a pretty smart move. 

Puck leans over to place a light kiss Kurt’s soft lips before leaning back into his seat. Kurt blindly unzips his boyfriend’s pants, moving painfully slowly. The zipper’s metal teeth click as they part, and he enjoys the sight of Noah’s darkening eyes. He lowers the zipper completely but doesn’t undo the belt or the button. It feels dirtier this way, getting Noah’s cock out and going straight to the prize. It makes him think he’s giving an anonymous hand job to a stranger in a porn theatre, just like that movie they’d watched weeks ago. 

Noah’s dick is unsurprisingly hard, pushing against the fabric. Kurt smiles in the dark and grazes the heated flesh, teasing it. Puck is barely able to stifle a moan as Kurt shoves his fingers through the scorching gap on his boyfriend’s jeans, rubbing the pad of his thumb up and down the exposed skin. He takes his time tracing the outlines of veins, feeling it throb. It’s breathtakingly beautiful. 

He takes pity on Noah, whose hips are wildly bucking about, and takes the member out, letting it stand in the cold air of the dark room. They’re surrounded by men filled with image-induced adrenaline, who are reassuring their masculinity by watching expensive fireworks on a screen. He knows that any of these men would beat the crap out of them if they’re caught, and he finds the thrill unbelievably arousing. 

He loosely wraps his hand around Puck’s big cock, stroking it lightly, painfully slowly, until his boy’s begging for more. He grips the shaft harder, almost bruising it, and starts pumping in earnest. This time, Noah can’t repress the whimper that turns into a moan as he watches his boyfriend spitting on his hand before going back to stroking him, sliding his hand from hilt to crown and brushing the underside of the head--that little bundle of nerves that sets any man on fire. Noah lets his head fall back, and his eyes slide shut as he bites his own hand to prevent himself from letting loose the noises he’s dying to make. 

Kurt presses his thumb against the slit that’s dripping with precome, and traces circles on the smooth head. He varies the pressure and speed, stroking the length with his other hand. Noah thrashes around in his seat, thrusting into Kurt’s soft flesh as his teeth break into the skin of his forearm. He does his best to swallow screams of pleasure--he fails. A throaty “Fuck yes!“ falls from his lips and a chorus of shushing sounds follows it. Kurt smirks. 

He fondles Noah’s sack through rough denim and sets a maddeningly fast pace, twisting his hand when he reaches the tip in just the way he knows Noah likes it. That’s all it takes for Puck to come, and he catches glimpses of pearly liquid shooting from the slit. It hits the back of the seat in front of them, and he just feels so, so proud. 

Puck slumps, boneless, next to him and his spent body shakes. He’s courteous enough to try to return the favour, but Kurt politely refuses. He’s definitely made his point: no more staring at plastic boobs.

At least for now.


	3. Lutschen

The jocks back in Lima had it right: Kurt Hummel loves to suck cock. He loves the smell and taste, the weight of it in his mouth. He finds an almost unbearable pleasure in milking a lover, drinking all he has to offer (and then some). Moreover, he knows for a fact that men love getting blowjobs from him: all of his lovers have mentioned that there was something irresistibly erotic about a kneeling Kurt with a mouthful of dick. His boyfriend--dear, ever-so-subtle and eloquent Noah--would simply say “You’re such a prissy ice queen all the fucking time that it’s super hot to watch you taking it. Also, you swallow, babe. All of it! And it keeps you quiet”: an explanation that was usually followed by “Fuck, I’m hot. Wanna suck?” Which was Noah’s brand of romanticism. 

Regardless of the varied reactions he gets, Kurt is very proud of his ability in the art of fellatio. (“Blowjobs, Kurt. Speak normal.“) His first was unsurprisingly messy and anticlimactic, and had ended with his face and hair sprinkled with come. It almost killed him, but Sam had been nice and sweet about it--he’d even licked Kurt clean before returning the favor.

One time, though, his appreciation for oral sex really kicked him in the ass. He had been on his knees in his bedroom, his mouth stretched around Sam’s impressive member as the other boy held his head in place and thrust frantically. Dirty words spilled from his lips (oh, how Kurt loves to hear filth spewing from his lovers’ mouths--he begs them for it), his hoarse voice grunting, “Do you like it? Do you like choking on my big cock?” (Sam had been blushing furiously, trying his best to fulfil Kurt’s fantasies.) “You suck it so good, you little slut. I’m gonna fill you, gonna come in that hot little mouth ‘till you’re filled with my jizz.”

Unfortunately for everyone involved, Burt had been standing at the bottom of the stairs, having decided to leave the shop early to spend some quality time with his boy--the same boy that was sucking off some dude and being called a slut. Burt had probably seen red, green and blue before letting out a growl that sounded a lot like “Kurt.” And just like that, the air in the room froze. Sam stopped thrusting and Kurt whimpered in horrified despair. 

“M-Mister Hummel!”

Kurt had widened his eyes and pulled away with a lewd pop, accidentally bumping the head against his cheek. He would’ve gladly offered to die on the spot as his father commanded Sam to disappear. He didn’t have to say it twice--hell, Kurt wanted to disappear, too. 

The conversation that followed had been the strangest talk Kurt had ever had. His father tried, belatedly, to explain him what sex was (Kurt had to keep himself from rolling his eyes) and why there weren’t to be any closed doors when Kurt had boys over. 

After assuring his father that no, Sam did not mean any of those words, nor did he force Kurt into anything, Burt moved onto the importance of condoms. To Kurt’s dismay, Burt went on to suggest that Sam should return the favour.

That was the last time they ever had father-son talks about sex. In the younger Hummel’s opinion, it had been one talk too many. 

But even the incredibly traumatizing memory of hearing his father say “oral sex” hadn’t been enough to vanish Kurt’s dedication to giving head. Lucky for Kurt, being with Noah means that he can always practice his craft, which is probably why he’s kneeling under the other man’s desk. He lets his palms rub up and down thick thighs, his nose nuzzling the growing bulge between his boyfriend’s legs. 

His nimble fingers work on Noah’s pants, lowering them just enough to free his dick and give it an appreciative look. Kurt sticks his tongue out and lightly licks the head in kitten fashion. The taste is strong and masculine; it’s one-hundred percent Noah. He wishes he could just let himself drown in this feeling, Noah’s taste. 

“God, Kurt--please…” 

Kurt just smiles, his eyes sparkling. Noah understands immediately. “What did you say, Noah?”

“I told you to suck me dry just like you want it, you bitch.”

Kurt beams and slides his lips over the smooth crown, swirling his tongue around and suckling softly. He drags over the slit a few times before shooting little, stabs against the bundle of nerves under the head. He hums with satisfaction when a strong hand grips his hair and inches him a little lower. 

“Just look at you, baby. So pretty with my cock between your lips.” Kurt shudders when Noah pushes a finger into his mouth and rubs it against himself. The other man moans loudly as he pulls the finger out and smears the spit on Kurt’s face. He slides forward another inch.

“Fuck yes, just like that…”

Kurt keeps lowering his head until most of Noah’s cock is inside his mouth. He sets a fast pace, complete with the perfect amount of suction, that makes Noah see stars. 

“You’re such a little slut, aren’t you?” Kurt nods vigorously, making Puck’s cock jump and throb. “All hot for my dick… I bet you think about it all day, bet you fuck yourself wide and lose…”

Kurt softens the squeeze of his lips, opening his mouth a little wider before sliding up and down his boyfriend’s length, teeth grazing the flesh every now and then. Noah thrusts furiously until the head of his cock bumps against the back of Kurt’s throat. He has to squeeze the hilt to avoid coming. 

Kurt stands up and motions Puck to the side of the desk. He positions himself on top of it, his head dangling off the edge as he guides Noah’s leaking shaft to his mouth. His boyfriend quickly takes the hint and thrusts in and out of that sweet heat, picking up a fast pace, fucking Kurt’s mouth with unrelenting ferocity. He sneaks his hand under expensive trousers and swiftly jerks Kurt off. Pale hands grab Noah’s firm ass, keeping himself balanced and controlling the movements. 

“You’re so hard, aren’t you, baby? So hard for me, so needy. I wish I had one of your toys here so I could fuck you right now,” Puck grunts. Kurt whimpers around the cock buried in his mouth. “I’d fuck you so good. I’d make you eat my fat, hard dick and it’d make you all sore, ‘cause it’s too big, for you, right?” A vibrating moan escapes Kurt as a simple form of agreement.

“I’d split your ass open, too. Yeah, with that big blue dildo you‘ve got. It wouldn’t be as good as this--” Noah plunges in viciously, “--but it’d open you so wide that you wouldn’t be walking for a week, at least. You know how much lube I’d have to use? It barely fits, and you clench so tight around it. I’d fuck you hard and deep and you’d beg for it. I’d also do this…” A flick of his wrist on Kurt’s dick makes the other man howl in pleasure. “And you’d come, come and come until I’m done with you--when you’re filled to the brim with me.”

That’s does it for Kurt. He shoots messily all over Puck’s hand at the mere thought of being fucked like that. Noah pulls away and allows him to rest his head on the hard desk while he gathers as much of Kurt’s come as he can with one tanned, rough hand. Kurt snaps out of his blissed-out state when Noah motions him to kneel on the floor. Kurt looks up and sees that stained hand smear the liquid all over Noah’s hard and throbbing erection. What‘s left is licked clean by Puck himself, moaning around his digits.

Kurt takes the needy shaft on his mouth without fanfare, and he tastes himself on the heated flesh. Puck thrusts, Kurt sucks, and all too soon his mouth is being filled with bitter jizz that blends with his own. It’s, simply put, mind-blowing. He swallows all of it before kissing the man who is suddenly kneeling before him. 

Yeah, Kurt Hummel definitely loves sucking cock.


	4. Bekommen

Kurt has had a crappy day--work sucked (the ride home found him trapped in a traffic jam), the trench coat he has been eyeing wasn’t in the stock anymore and, to put some despair icing on the cake of his misery, he had received an e-mail from Rachel inviting him to the premiere of her new show.

Needless to say, Kurt desperately needs to blow off some steam.

As he gets out of his car, all he can think of is punching someone. Maybe he’ll stuff his face with some greasy fast-food garbage while he‘s at it. He resists both temptations, though--getting beaten up or clogging his pores are not options, no matter how down and out he may be. Of course, his little display of maturity doesn’t do much to improve his mood (at all), so he’s absolutely cranky as he stomps his way through the front door.

Noah has apparently developed mind-reading powers over the course of the years, because as soon as Kurt crosses the threshold, he finds himself pulled into a strong embrace that’s quickly followed by a rough kiss. He feels his bad mood practically squeeze out of him as his boyfriend’s hands tighten around his waist. Kurt pushes himself up and hooks his legs around Noah as the man carries them to their bedroom.

Noah lays Kurt out on the bed and starts undressing him with slow, careful movements, taking his time to peel off each of the many layers of Kurt’s tasteful outfit. He kisses the exposed skin almost reverently, and Kurt can’t do anything but moan in-between sighs, too immersed in the gentle caresses and kisses. 

He watches on, silent as his boyfriend takes his own clothes off. Kurt’s mouth goes dry when his eyes fall into the other’s erection: he growls and wastes no time in grabbing it, his cold hand loosely encircling the shaft to slide up and down. He smiles when Noah closes his eyes and moans loudly. He pulls away to tug Noah down so he’s on top of him. Kurt kisses him deeply, taking both their erections in a soft, pale hand. He starts stroking, the need to be closer to Puck, to be his and no one else’s practically overcomes him. He’s waited as long as he can and he asks, pleads to Noah to take him, to fuck him until he can’t move. 

Noah complies without hesitation, getting the lubricant from the bedside drawer and coating his fingers with it. Getting Kurt ready is, in and of itself, a pleasure he never gets bored of. He loves watching his thick fingers work in and out of the other man’s taut entrance. Noah lazily circles the ring of muscle, coaxing it into opening before sliding his slick fingertip in. Kurt clenches around Noah for the briefest of moments before relaxing, allowing his boyfriend to gyrate and push his finger in. A second digit is added, scissoring the loosening entrance as delicately as possible.

Noah savours the resistance of Kurt’s muscles, the chance to watch Kurt’s body open to him in a slow but steady rhythm and the way Kurt contracts around him. He especially loves the promise that body holds--the expectation of the velvety heat that will envelop him soon.

He’s so gone, lost in the thoughts of what’s to come, that he doesn’t catch Kurt snatching the lubricant. Noah only notices when he feels something brushing against his hand; his breath catches when Kurt’s pale fingers are roughly pushed inside of himself, resting on top of Noah’s.

Kurt moans loudly, relishing in the way he’s filled, how his hole stretches to accommodate the four fingers: two thick and rough, two slender and soft. He moves until he’s brushing against his prostate, shuddering as grazes that bundle of nerves. His back arches violently, involuntarily, and Noah’s fingers almost slip out of him. Kurt forces himself to flatten his body back onto the mattress, only using his hips to fuck himself on those four fingers. 

Noah pulls out and slicks his cock thoroughly, jerking himself off as Kurt continues to frantically pump his hand in and out. Puck has to forcefully take those pale fingers, stealing them from that greedily fluttering entrance and making Kurt whimper in protest. Noah positions himself behind the other man, dragging his cock along the crack and over Kurt’s hole. He teases until Kurt begs him, in a choked, demanding growl, to just fuck him.

Puck pushes in, waiting for Kurt’s nod before slowly moving forward. He watches for any signs of pain or discomfort on his lover’s delicate face, but Kurt just bites his bottom lip and relaxes around Puck’s shaft.

Kurt lifts his legs and wraps them around Noah’s waist, and it brings their bodies closer together, pushing Puck deeper inside. They start moving, and it starts out soft and shallow, but they gain speed with each stroke. Kurt moves his legs higher, resting them on Puck’s broad shoulder so his knees bump against his own chest every time the other man thrusts in. He lets out a sharp cry every time Noah slams into him--the movements make his cock brush against sweaty abs, a feathery, fleeting touch that sends sparks of pleasure rocketing through him, but is far from enough to make him come. 

Noah’s pace gets faster and rougher; he pulls all the way out until only the head of his cock is still inside of Kurt, only to plunge forward less than a second later. Kurt knows Noah is getting closer, and so he pushes him away, warningly squeezing the base of Puck’s cock to deter the upcoming climax. 

He lays on his side and prompts Puck to spoon him from behind, rattling off instructions that are barely comprehensible. Noah gets the gist of it, hooking Kurt’s pale leg over his hip before he pushes back in. The new position makes Kurt slide upwards with each powerful thrust, Puck’s tanned hand stroking Kurt’s unattended cock while he bites the supple flesh of his boyfriend’s shoulder. Kurt grunts and moans, his voice going up and down as Noah’s heated shaft fills him again and again. They move perfectly together, bodies so covered in sweat that their skin shimmers, slick and barely chafing wherever their bodies happen to rub against each other.

Kurt can feel himself getting closer, knows all of the telltale signs by heart: his whole body tenses up, his nerves feel like they’re set on fire, and his fingertips are buzzing with electricity. He shifts positions just one more time, successfully delaying his orgasm.

He kneels in front of the headboard, gripping it for support as Noah moves behind Kurt. He spreads Kurt open and thrusts in, one arm wrapped around Kurt’s waist as the other trails down until it rests upon an angular hip. He fucks Kurt with all his strength, pushing with enough force to jolt Kurt upwards. He’s so desperate to come, his thrusts short but deep as his own needs begin to overwhelm him.

The arm around Kurt’s waist moves down until Noah’s grasping Kurt’s leaking cock, pumping it viciously, in time with his thrusts. He pushes his free thumb into Kurt’s mouth, forcing him to suck on it. Noah is nearly sitting straight, all his weight resting on his calves as they set a different pace, Kurt taking control. He moves up and down, riding Puck even as the bed squeaks in protest, wood and steel barely able to handle their enthusiasm.

Noah comes first, his body rigid as Kurt moves through his climax. Kurt’s muscles clench around Puck’s spent cock, spilling himself all over a green pillowcase. 

They‘re quiet, their breathing shallow and calming in the drowsy aftermath. Eventually, Kurt stands up, going to shower and Noah tosses the soiled linen into the hamper. They snuggle together--but only after Noah has showered, too, because “It’s gross to sleep in a clean bed like that, Noah!“

Kurt is sound asleep, and Puck’s not too far behind. Once more, Puck finds himself amazed by Kurt’s ability to look fabulous, even in sleep. His expensive pyjamas are soft against Puck’s skin, and damp hair tickles Noah’s naked chest as he, too, begins to drift off.


	5. Schenken

Kurt Hummel is one sexy grease monkey. Puck had discovered that during their first return trip (as a couple) to Lima.

When they got there, Kurt’s dad had grunted in what Kurt had assured him was an approving way. Although Puck had begged to differ, Burt generally accepted Puck’s presence in his son’s life. Not accepting enough to let him sleep in Kurt’s bed, of course. (Puck had bitten his tongue to resist the urge to tell the older Hummel how his little boy had begged for Puck to come all over his face last night, a twelve-inch dildo rammed up his ass and a ring around his cock.) He’d gotten Finn’s old bedroom instead, much to the pair’s chagrin.

That memorable first time back home had also provided him with the absurdly arousing image of Kurt--lithe, prissy Kurt, dressed in nondescript blue coveralls with a nametag on his chest and oil stains covering his hands. It had rapidly become one of his favourite versions of Kurt.

It was the reason why Puck finds himself pressed against a wall in the Hummel-Hudson kitchen, Kurt’s strong body (clad in those stained blue coveralls) pinning him down and his thigh rubbing into Puck’s groin as Kurt latches his mouth onto Puck‘s own.

Puck breaks the kiss, trying to understand how he went from making a sandwich to being molested. 

“Kurt--” kiss, “your dad…” groping--was that Kurt’s hand, or his? “he’ll cut my balls off--ah,” He moans, head whacking against the wall behind him. “if he sees us…”

Really, when had Puck become the responsible one in this relationship?

“My dad and Carole are visiting the new shop in Delphos. They’ll be back in at least a few hours.”

Noah thanks God for Burt Hummel’s expanding business, grabbing his boyfriend’s waist to pull him into a brazen kiss. When Kurt’s hands run over his back, Puck can’t help but moan in approval, and, after a moment, he spins them around to pin Kurt up against the wall. He licks a stripe down the other man’s neck, tasting oil, sweat and, underneath that, a taste so unmistakably Kurt.

The rough fabric of the overalls feels alien to his hands, the friction so different from the soft silk, wool or velvet that Kurt usually wears. Kurt moans and pushes Noah down to his knees, his eyes darkened with lust. Puck moves easily, willingly, perfectly aware of what the other wants.

Kurt’s pale hand--Noah has to bite back a whimper when he sees the dirt under those nails, the rough patches on the pads of those fingertips--drags his zipper down before slipping off the uniform, letting it pool around his ankles.

He stands there in nothing but a plain white t-shirt and some cotton boxers, and the air feels cold but electrifying against his skin. His erection strains against the underwear, tenting it up. The head teasingly pokes through the hole in the boxers, and Noah mouths the hardened flesh, biting it slightly and rubbing his face against it. 

Kurt pulls the boxer shorts down past his knees, freeing his cock. He gives it a couple of lazy strokes, smirking at Puck’s fixated gaze. The lust overwhelming the man’s features is almost too much for Kurt to take. He hand grabs the back of his boyfriend’s head, pushing it towards his member and whispers “Suck it” so low it’s barely audible. Noah obeys, and it’s obvious how much he’s relishing Kurt’s dominant mood. He licks and kisses the shaft, lightly suckling the head. 

Kurt tightens his grip on Noah’s head and forces his cock into that compliant mouth. He can barely stifle the loud moan that tugs at his vocal chords when Noah’s tongue moves over the thick vein that runs along the underside of his dick. His flesh throbs, cock growing even bigger when Noah starts sucking, his teeth scraping against sensitive skin, and… yeah, Kurt moans freely, thrusting deep into Puck’s mouth. The muscles of Noah’s throat clenching around the head of his dick makes him see stars.

Kurt pushes Noah back, laughing when Puck defiantly tries to keep sucking. Kurt pulls his cock out of his boyfriend’s mouth and rubs it all over Noah’s face, smearing pre-come along his lips, his cheeks, his chin--wherever he pleases.

“Bend over the table. Now.” Kurt’s tone leaves no room for argument--not that Puck seems to want to. Noah walks to the sturdy wooden table and bends over, just like he was told, flattening his chest against the hard surface.

Kurt steps out of his rumpled coveralls and retrieves a small bottle of lube from one of its pockets, taking no time in pressing himself up against Noah. His bare cock rubs against that denim-covered ass, and he hisses at the sensation. Puck straightens up and undoes his belt, sliding the jeans and boxers down with a metallic of the belt-buckle. His painfully hard dick springs up to hit the table top with a muted thump.

He bends over once more in an act of obvious submission, his breath catching when he feels Kurt’s tongue run over his hole. He grabs at the edges of the table as his boyfriend spreads his cheeks open before tonguing his entrance. The taut ring of flesh pulses, opening up under Kurt’s expert ministrations. The tip of that magical tongue pushes in to gyrate slowly inside of him, widening him in preparation for something much thicker. He doesn’t realize he’s been humping the table until Kurt gives his ass a playful slap.

Kurt‘s breath skates over Puck‘s ass cheeks as he says, “You don’t move unless I say so, Noah. And you definitely don’t come until I give you permission. Understood?” Noah’s voice breaks when he agrees, high pitched and similar to Kurt’s usual tone. 

Kurt’s tongue pushes in even further, fucking Noah thoroughly until he’s as loose as possible. He stands over Puck, lubing up three fingers and pushing them into that wet hole. After a moment, he scissors them and uses the tips of his digits to brush up against Noah’s prostate to drive him crazy with pleasure and need. 

Kurt slicks himself up and pushes in, bottoming in one single, vicious thrust. His balls make a lewd noise as they slap against the bare skin of Noah’s ass. He grunts among Noah‘s whimpers--Kurt can hear himself, and he’d be ashamed if he weren’t so busy fucking the gorgeous man he’s had the honor of sharing his life with. Kurt’s kisses those shaking shoulder blades and rubs his lower back, allowing Puck time to accommodate around Kurt’s cock. 

After a moment, Noah mutters a weak “More” and that’s all the encouragement Kurt needs. He pulls himself out almost completely, leaving only the tip of the head inside of Noah’s pulsing channel before thrusting in again, hitting that bundle of nerves with deadly precision before pulling out once more. He’s already leaking, pre-come easing his thrusts. Kurt sets a furious pace that has Noah sliding forward every time he slams into him, and his feet are rising from the sheer force of Kurt’s thrusts. 

Noah is a mumbling mess beneath him, sobbing and whimpering, hissing and cursing. Every other word is a plea for some friction on his abandoned dick, and Kurt slides his forefinger inside of Puck, alongside his cock, and it completely breaks Noah’s resistance. 

“Oh God, GodGodfuck--fuck! Kurt! I need to come! God, let me come!”

Kurt laughs airily, wriggling his finger as he flicks his hips. “Hmm? You want to come, Noah?”

Kurt’s hand grabs Puck’s cock, jerking him off roughly. His strokes are synchronized with the ebb and flow of his hips, and Noah comes before a minute is up, spilling himself all across the tabletop. He collapses against it in a boneless heap, his chest pressed into his own come. 

Kurt starts to pound into him again, one hand braced against Puck’s back while the other grips at a hip with an iron fist. He thrusts in and out, again and again until he reaches his own climax. It pulses through him, setting his veins on fire. His muscles grow taut, his entire body focused on his cock and the clenching heat that surrounds him. He spills himself into Noah’s sore channel with an explosive, blinding pleasure. 

He thrusts a few more times, delicious squelching noises filling the air. When he pulls back out, he can see some of the pearly liquid dribbling out of Noah’s ass. He touches it, sticky and warm on his finger, and holds it out for Puck to lap at. 

He sprawls out on the floor, the cold tiles a welcome feeling against his feverish body. Noah stirs, weakly wincing and hissing when each movement makes his ass burn. 

“Fuck, Kurt that was…”  
“Hot?”  
“Amazing.”

Kurt laughs and gets up to clean before his father comes back and is traumatized for the rest of his life. 

Kurt Hummel doesn’t go butch all that often, but when he does, he’s the best.


	6. Der Frieden

The cold, greyish light pours through the high windows as Kurt looks at himself in the mirror one last time. He assesses himself clinically, his trained eyes devoid of all indulgence.

He’s in good shape for his age and he knows it. Still thin, but no longer as flexible or delicate as he once was. His skin is still fair and soft, even if crinkles surround his eyes and mouth, silvery lines softened by years of rigorous skin care--ghostly, but still there.

He looks down at his hands as he flexes them and watches how the light plays on their contours, skin marred by a peppering of small spots. He raises one hand to put his fringe in place. His hair is thinner than it used to be, grey lines beginning to run through it. He constantly thanks God for sparing him of his father’s baldness--even in old age, Kurt Hummel is a vain man. 

He runs his hands over his suit, eyes closed as re relishes in the richness of the fabric: the velvety texture, its weight on his frame. ‘I’m less eccentric than I used to be,’ he thinks to himself. His black and white outfit, even tailored and fitted, would have been unforgivably bland for his teenaged self.

Kurt closes his eyes and it’s like he can practically see himself back at sixteen years old, full of anger, pain and frustration. The older Kurt smiles at the young Kurt. He wants to hug him, tell him that it’ll be okay, that one day he’ll be successful, happy and loved.

Young Kurt would snort, of course, finding him too conformist, too drab. He would tell him he’d gone soft and weak in his old age. But he would offer a magnificent scarf or hat, some sort of a bonding gesture towards him, regardless. 

Sighing, Kurt adds a fedora to his ensemble and looks in the mirror one last time. Even at sixty years old, Kurt Hummel is still fabulous. 

He bids farewell to the memory-boy, his eyes sparkling with the joy of a perfect outfit.

Everything can (does) change, but his eyes are still just as young and as clear as they‘d ever been. Green, blue and grey mix and melt into each other, hungry for beauty, aware and clinical, burning everything with their icy, white fire. 

He’s pulled out of his reverie by strong arms encircling his waist. They’re less toned than they used to be but still just as beautiful, just as loved. Puck turns him around and crushes their lips together. Kurt kisses his husband back in a gesture so familiar that still manages to surprise him every time.

When they pull away, Kurt can help but smile at life. He loves, he is loved, he is happy.


End file.
